The sun had long since set over the academy grounds, casting the city into a cool, quiet night. The forge, however, was anything but peaceful.
Kalem sat on a sturdy wooden bench, his face still slightly swollen from Nara's earlier punch. Across from him stood Nara, Jhaeros, and Lyra, their expressions ranging from irritation to disappointment.
The only sounds were the soft crackle of the forge's embers and the faint hum of enchanted tools on the nearby shelves.
And Kalem?
Kalem was in trouble.
"So," Nara began, her voice deceptively calm, "you wanna explain what the hell that was?"
Kalem shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the glowing coals as if they could somehow save him.
"In my defense—"
"There is no defense, Kalem!" Lyra snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "Do you have any idea how many people you almost froze, burned, or buried alive?"
Jhaeros, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a slow nod. "I've been hunted before—but thanks to you, today I was almost hunted by a Basilisk in a blizzard."
Kalem opened his mouth to speak, but Nara cut him off.
"And I was stuck in a sandstorm, while still high on hallucinogens, chasing down some elf idiot!" She jabbed a finger toward him. "And it was your fault."
Kalem exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples.
"…Okay," he admitted quietly. "I might've gone too far."
"Might've?!" Nara barked.
Even Velka, Jhaeros' dire wolf, let out a low growl from her place curled near the forge.
Kalem's usual smirk faded, replaced by something rare—genuine guilt.
He could still feel the pulse of the rune network in his memory, the overwhelming power he had harnessed. He had been so caught up in testing the system's limits that he hadn't thought enough about how it would affect his friends.
And when he thought about what could have happened—how close he had come to hurting the people who had stood by him—something sank in his chest.
For once, there was no clever excuse.
He had messed up.
He knew it.
And, for once, he was willing to admit it.
He looked up at them, his expression softer.
"I'm… sorry."
The words hung heavy in the warm air.
"I got carried away," Kalem continued. "I wanted to test the system—to push it—but I didn't think about how much danger I was putting you all in."
His hands tightened into fists on his lap.
"I'm supposed to have your backs. I didn't. And that's on me."
A brief silence followed.
Kalem wasn't one for apologies, and the fact that he had admitted his mistake without deflection or sarcasm caught them off guard.
Nara tilted her head, arms still crossed. "So, what now? You're just gonna say 'oops' and expect us to be fine?"
Kalem shook his head.
"I'll make it up to you," he said. "Whatever you want—a custom weapon, armor, enchanted gear—you name it. I'll make it for you."
That got their attention.
Even Lyra—who had been glaring daggers at him—paused, considering the offer.
"And no half-baked stuff," Nara warned. "I want the real thing."
Kalem gave a small smile. "Wouldn't dream of cutting corners."
Jhaeros raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
Kalem nodded. "Anything."
A slow grin crept across Nara's face. "I'll be holding you to that, gearhead."
Lyra, though still clearly annoyed, softened a bit. "I'm going to think carefully about what I want."
"You all can," Kalem said. "I'll make it when the tournament's over."
For a moment, there was quiet—an unspoken agreement settling between them.
Kalem had messed up—but he was willing to make it right.
And that, at least, was something.
"So," Jhaeros said, leaning against the wall again, "are we supposed to trust you not to break reality next time?"
Kalem chuckled softly. "I promise to keep my experiments outside of the arena… mostly."
"Mostly?" Lyra's eyebrow twitched.
Nara snorted. "Well, you're still a reckless idiot—but at least you're our reckless idiot."
Kalem felt some of the tension in the room dissipate, and relief washed through him.
Despite everything, they were still here.
Still his friends.
And, in the end, that mattered more than any experiment.
A New Understanding
As the embers of the forge crackled softly, the four of them fell into easier conversation—the sharp edges of their anger slowly dulling.
Kalem listened more than he spoke, genuinely taking in their words. For once, he wasn't lost in theories or plans—he was simply with his friends.
And as the night stretched on, he knew one thing for sure—
He wouldn't make the same mistake again.
Well… at least not without a warning.